Wizard Nightmare
by Arawn D. Draven
Summary: What would happen if Harry died in an accidental fire before even going to Hogwarts? What if he made a contract to be able to kill those he holds responsible for his suffering: the adults? Alive Potters, Wizards bashing, and rated M because of some rather gory and disturbing scenes.


**Hello, here's a little story I made for this Halloween, hope you'll enjoy it!**

**WARNING: there are descriptions of rather gory/disturbing scenes in this story, you are warned.**

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><p><strong>I don't own Harry Potter or A Nightmare on Elm Street.<strong>

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><p><strong>Wizard Nightmare<strong>

Harry screamed as he felt his skin melt and his blood boiling, his vocal cords almost rupturing from the strain he was putting on them as the seven-years old was burning alive. He could faintly hear the firefighters outside, but he knew in his heart that they were far too late to be able to save him. The fire was too hot, too _intense_ to be quickly stopped, and he knew that he was going to die there.

Now, Harry Potter had always been a rather silent child, as he had quickly learnt that his words would never be believed and that they would often earn him a beating from the fat lump of flesh that he had to call Uncle, while his bitch of an aunt would watch and add a comment about how he deserved everything he got, how he was a _Freak_. That did not mean that they could prevent him from thinking, and for a child his age, Harry was very intelligent and well-learnt, as he had to _deliberately_ fail his tests lest he wanted to be beaten and sent to his cupboard without food. As such, and despite his young age, Harry Potter was a very bitter and hateful person. He _hated_ his so-called relatives, who treated him like dirt despite his best efforts to make them happy, he _hated_ the neighbors who whispered behind his back, calling him a delinquent and good-for-nothing, and he _loathed_ adults as a whole, as they never helped him, never _listened_ to him. And while he didn't like other children, he was at least smart enough to understand why nobody was friends with him since Dudley and his gang bullied those that approached him, and were indoctrinated by their parents. They weren't responsible of their actions, he could understand that much.

As for why he was currently in a cabin on fire, it was quite simple: since he could never be in peace in Surrey, he had taken to spend most of his week-ends in an abandoned cabin he had found during his explorations of a nearby forest. It wasn't big, and had little in the way of furniture, save for some unlabelled bottles containing chemicals that he made sure to leave alone, as their smell made it clear that they were rather potent. However, that day, Dudley and his friends had followed him, not that he had noticed, and they had waited until he was inside before setting fire to some grass and locking him in. Now normally that wouldn't have had too much consequences, the problem was that after a very dry summer, the aged wood was particularly flammable, and in less time it took to say Fire, the entire cabin had burst in flames. With Harry _inside._

At this point, it would be necessary to precise that odd things happened to Harry. When he was feeling particularly strong emotions, strange things happened. There had been this time when a teacher had scolded Harry for trying to copy on Dudley when it had been the other way around, his hair had turned a very ugly blue. Another time, when chased by Dudley and his gang, he had somehow ended on the school's roof. So at first, Harry tried to wish himself somewhere else, his desperation growing with the temperature and as the flames started to get close to him, his panic and desperation increased. In normal circumstances, it would have been enough for him to Apparate out, as wizards and witches called it, and despite not knowing it, Harry _was_ a wizard, after all. However, he had just finished his week without more than two "meals" (some salad and two slices of old bread), and had burnt pretty much all his energy in unconsciously healing himself. As such, he was out of luck.

That night, Harry Potter burnt alive, cursing all the adults that had lead to this situation. The Dursleys, for not treating him properly, and for actually _encouraging_ Dudley's bullying, the teachers at school, for not scolding Dudley and curb his bullying, the neighbors for not caring about him when it was painfully obvious it was _their_ children who were the delinquents and good-for-nothing.

His last thought, as his eyes were liquefied by the heat, as his bones were breaking like glass, was: _How I wish I could make them all pay! No, I WILL MAKE THEM PAY!_

**-Break-**

Frederick Charles Krueger, also known as The Springswood Slasher during the period of time that preceded his demise at the hands of the parents of the children he killed, was bored. He had killed a lot recently, and as usual, one of his would-be victims had managed to drag him into the Real World and kill him. And as usual, they thought they had ended him, and as usual, they were wrong. As a Dream Demon, or as he was fond of calling himself in private, as a Nightmare Lord, they _couldn't_ kill him. Even if they killed him in the Real World, he would simply return to the Dream World, waiting for some time before he started to kill again.

Now don't misunderstand, "Freddy" was bored because he had to wait for a bit before killing again, not because he had killed _too much_. Hell, he didn't think there could be such a thing as too much killing, especially since he could manipulate the dreams of his victims at will! It was so amusing to see their faces when they realized they were dreaming, the despair and fear on their faces as he killed them, using their _own_ _dreams_ for that. He relished in their screams as he cut them open, as he used their intestines to play, as he toyed with their deepest fears, with their _lives_, before killing them. The little part where he played with them, where he instilled the fear of Freddy in their lives, knowing it would eat at their minds even when they were awake, was the part he preferred. He loved nothing more than the period of panic following his first kills, when he gave a few clues to one of his future victims, causing him or her to unknowingly spread the fear of his name amongst their friends.

But for now, he was _bored_, because he had to wait for a little while before making another kill. He had waited for a few years, and he intended to wait for another few before doing anything more, but Jesus was he _bored_! To stall his boredom, he had taken to watch random people's dreams, though after a while it had gotten old. Men's dreams were more often than not about fucking, either their secretary, or that teen down the street that looked so _hot _ but was oh so forbidden! Women's dreams were the same, only with the sexy gardener from next door, or that leader of a boy's band, etc...Fuckin' horny rabbits.

So he was very much surprised when he felt someone enter his domain in the Dream Realm, and that a badly burnt child appeared in front of him, looking as if he had just seen the Boogeyman (which in a way was exactly what happened).

"The fuck? What are ya doin' here kid?!" he asked, surprised ( and a little miffed that some kid just _appeared_ in _his_ domain, yes sir, that was plain rude!).

However, before the child could even answer, Freddy's eyes widened when he felt the telltale signs of Dream Demon coming from the boy in front of him.

"Well, look at that...Looks like those fuckers recruited someone else!" he grinned, before looking down at the kid, and growling:

"Kid, before ya do anything, lemme tell ya this: if ya want to kill people, I call first dibs on the kids!"

"Aah...Ehh...Uuhhmm...Where am I, sir?" asked the kid, looking honestly confused, as he tilted the head to the side.

From what Freddy could see, the kid had to be six or seven at best, and had raven-hair, or had used to, since there were only a few scarce patches of it left on his badly burnt head. He had deep green eyes, and he was wearing what looked like oversized rags. Not that impressive, it was actually more pitiful than scary. For fuck's sake, he didn't even have a weapon!

Freddy himself wasn't that impressive in his normal form, he was a middle-aged man with a badly burnt body, wearing black pants, black shoes, a green and red striped shirt and a tattered fedora. He wasn't overly tall, and if it wasn't for the clawed glove on his right hand, he would be quite normal-looking, for a burnt man that is.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Don't tell me those fuckers didn't _tell_ ya anything?!" he roared, realizing that those fucking Demons he had made a contract with had more or less dumped the kid on him without telling him anything.

"Ok, listen here kid, 'cause I'm going ta explain this only once. Did ya make a contract with three guys that looked like freakin' snakes with a skin problem?"

The child blinked, before slowly nodding. He remembered meeting those snake-like things after his death, and that he had made a contract with them when they had told him he would be able to get his revenge.

"Okay. Now, ya're a Dream Demon, that's what they call it anyway. I'd rather be called a Nightmare Lord, but hey, I ain't the one who named it! Anyway, long story short: ya can get into people's dreams, manipulate 'em, and then the funny part, _kill_ 'em!"

Now that seemed to wake the burnt kid, as his eyes widened, before he smirked, a smile full of evil glee on his face. That really endeared the kid to Freddy, as he had never really like kids since he had spent most of his youth bullied. To have one this broken and as a Dream Demon would be fun to watch, especially if he was really as vindictive as his smirk seemed to make him.

"I can really kill people through their dreams?"

"Ya bet, kid! Ya'll see, ya'll love it! There ain't anything better that killin' someone with their dreams! So long as ya know what ya want ta do, ya only need to want it. If ya want, I'll show ya how it's done!

But first, ya have ta change what ya look like. Na, seriously, ya aren't scary at all! Ya're a _Nightmare Lord_, for fuck's sake! Ya have ta be scary! Not look like a piece of bacon!"

**-Break-**

Eventually, and after a _lot_ of practice, Harry managed to change his looks. While he hadn't wanted to change that much, he was still taller than before, standing at something like four feet. His rags had changed into something _way_ better suited to scare his future victims, a simple, and tattered, black cloak that left his torso bare and showed off his horribly burnt skin. As for his weapon, he had liked Freddy's glove so much that he had copied it, earning himself a kick by the Nightmare Lord as he grumbled about "brats copying awesome ideas".

He had spent a lot of time around Freddy, and found that he rather liked the man. Sure, he was an insane, psychotic murderer who loved dark humor and sadistic jokes, but the man had acted more like family with him than the Dursleys ever did. He had taught him how to use his powers, and had also tutored him in how to scare people the most, how to make them suffer the most. As Dream Demons, they could use the Dream World to uncover their targets' worst fears, after that it was child play to use it against them, not that he had been able to yet.

Oh, it wasn't that he lacked the resolve and the cruelty needed to torture and kill people, especially since he had agreed to leave the children and teens to Freddy while he busied himself with the adults, no. It wasn't that he lacked the imagination necessary either, as he had a list of ideas that had made his mentor whistle at some of them. No, it was simply that he wanted his first targets to be the Dursleys, those fat, disgusting excuses of humans deserved to die, and he would kill them himself (well, Vernon and Petunia, Freddy wanted Dudley for himself). So he had practiced, practiced, and practiced some more, until he was confident in his ability to pull off their murders.

**-Break-**

Vernon Dursley smirked as he spanked his new secretary. The girl was in her early twenties, and was a true looker. He had wanted to fuck her since the day he had met her, oh, how he had imagined this! Her skirt hugged her long, smooth legs, while her white top did little to conceal her ample cleavage, covered by a black bra easily seen through the white fabric. Her delicate face and pouty lips had been begging him to claim them, and he had wanted so badly to mess her perfect and long blonde hair up.

So now, he was very much enjoying seeing her in her undergarments and wiggling her butt to him.

"Yess, Mr. Dursley, I've been a bad girl...Spank me more!"

"Ha, I knew it! You're a whore, isn't that right?!" he said, before smacking her behind again, causing her to squeal again.

"Yesss...Insult me more..."

"You're a whore! A disgusting bitch that gets off seducing hardworking men like me!"

SPANK!

"A good-for-nothing, stupid bint!"

SPANK!

"A..."

"**A disgusting, repulsive man who treats his nephew like dirt?"** asked a gravelly voice, causing Vernon to jump as he looked at his secretary.

She was now completely still, and her skin was taking a rather disturbing pale blue tint.

"Rosa?" he asked, moving to shake her shoulder.

As he wondered briefly why her skin was so _cold_, he shook her, and screamed in horror as her head separated from her body and rolled on the floor, before stilling. Upon seeing her face, he screamed again as he jumped backwards, his eyes never leaving the partially decomposed, maggot-infested face of his secretary fixing him with wide unblinking eyes.

"Why?" her voice rasped, as a centipede crawled out of her mouth, causing him to look away and vomit.

"THIS IS NOT FUNNY, ROSA! I'LL HAVE YOU SACKED, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" he roared, before kicking the head, expecting it to disappear.

He was disgusted when he felt said head burst like an egg and splatter grey matter on his shoes, and quickly took them off.

"**Well, Vernon, it seems you always have your priorities straight."**

"NOW SEE HERE, I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE, BUT YOU WILL COME OUT THIS INSTANT!" he roared, looking around to find who was toying with him.

Hearing a sound behind him, he grabbed his desk lamp and swung it like a club towards the source of the noise, and was satisfied when he heard the sound of bones breaking. Turning around to see who was_ daring_ to play with him, he felt his stomach lurch as he saw the corpse of his son, blood flowing from the head and tainting the grey carpet of his office.

"DUDLEY! Speak to me, DUDLEY!"

"**Such concern..."** mocked the voice, "**I wonder where it was when you were supposed to take care of your nephew..."**

"The boy was a freak!" roared Vernon, his face turning an ugly puce color. "A disgrace to normal, hardworking people! We didn't want him, but nooo, the Freaks dumped him on our doorstep, and threatened us if we didn't take care of him! No way I was letting him contaminate my _son_ with his freakishness!"

"**And of course, you didn't tell anyone your nephew died in a fire caused by your son. No, you told everyone that the **_**Freak**_** had run away!"**

"He deserved it! He used his freakishness to have Dudley fail his tests! He made him fat!"

"**T-t-t. Now, Vernon, we both know that Dudley barely knows how to read, even less write. Your nephew isn't responsible for your son's stupidity...YOU are. And YOU are responsible for him being a fat and whiny brat, if you didn't let him eat three eggs and a steak each breakfast and cater to all his wishes, perhaps he would be closer to **_**normal**_** people."**

Vernon was now ready to explode, and was shaking with rage.

"GET OUT, _FREAK_! STOP YOUR GAMES!"

"**Never the patient one, were you?"** asked the voice, this time coming from behind his desk.

Whirling around, he saw the Freak there, sitting in his chair, smiling smugly at him, an infuriating, sickly sweet smile. With a roar, he lunged for the boy, but found himself pinned to the ground by an unknown force.

"RELEASE ME, FREAK!"

"**No."** came the reply, as the boy slowly got up and went around his desk.

As he moved, his right hand, which until then had been hidden by the desk, came into view, and had he been calm, he would have felt his blood run cold. Unfortunately, Vernon Dursley had always had a short temper and little intellect, and he was currently trying his best to free his considerable body mass from whatever was holding him down with only one thing in his mind: throttle the Freak in front of him. The fact that the aforementioned Freak happened to have a glove with very sharp blades as fingers didn't seem to register in his mind

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS, FREAK! YOUR FREAKY SCHOOL WON'T LET YOU!" he roared.

At that, Harry grinned. Dumb as Vernon could be, he _did_ have a few interesting pieces of information in his head. He was quite curious about this place called Hogwarts, which supposedly let people learn magic, but considering Vernon's rather crude personality, there wasn't much food for thought in there. He only knew that the Freak (him) was supposed to be contacted by letter on his eleventh birthday, and that there was someplace in London where he would be able to buy the supplies his needed. That, and the fact that Petunia knew _a lot_ more about magic than Vernon, since his mother, Petunia's sister, the supposedly _dead_ one, was alive, _and_ a witch. Now _that_ would demand some investigation.

Growing bored by Vernon's angry rant, he silenced him, before looking at him with a very dark smile.

"**Now, Vernon, you are going to die. Don't worry, Petunia and Dudley will soon join you, a friend and I will be making sure of that."**

At that, Vernon seemed to struggle harder, that is until Harry nonchalantly used his very sharp blades to cut his fingers, which caused him to shake as he tried to howl in pain.

"**Well then, you prevented me from having fun in life, so let's make sure your death entertains me."** he said, trailing one of his blades across his "uncle's" cheek until it was under his right eye. Whistling a merry tune to himself, he pushed and watched with great satisfaction as the blade sunk into the man's eye while Vernon's mouth opened in a silent scream.

_Let the fun begin._

**-Break-**

The next morning, Privet Drive was awoken by the extremely loud and shrill scream from Petunia Dursley, who was screaming incoherently. Eventually, a neighbor got fed up and called the police. When they arrived, however, they did not take long to exit the house, as they emptied their stomach in the flower beds, which had started to decline now that Harry was no longer there to take care of them.

When the ambulance arrived, a small crowd had gathered on the other side of the street, as they tried to learn what would undoubtedly be the next hot topic of local gossip. Finally, it was a rather severe-looking woman, the mother of Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend, who gathered the courage to ask the closest policeman:

"Excuse me, sir, but what happened?"

"Sorry, Ma'am, can't tell you." explained the policeman, looking a little green.

"Excuse me, but I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we need to know what happened here!" huffed Mrs. Polkiss," If it was important enough to have you call reinforcements, then we need to know what happened? Was there a robbery?"

The policeman was about to politely but firmly tell the obviously gossip-queen that it wasn't any of her business, when he felt his superior walk past him. He was a man in his mid-forties, and while he wasn't a living legend or anything of the sort, he did have the skills required for his job, as well as enough experience dealing with crowds to know how to defuse the situation.

"Ah, finally someone competent to talk to." bristled Mrs. Polkiss.

"Silence." hissed the man in front of her, as he sent a glare her way that instantly caused the woman to shut up. "Now, as this woman said, you _do_ have a right to know what happened here, and so long as I do not get into too much details, I have been allowed to answer your questions.

This morning, Mrs. Petunia Dursley woke and found her husband dead in their bed. He had been brutally killed, and his blood used to write a message on the wall: **Who is the Freak now?** So far we have no more information about the killer, but I would recommend not letting your children out of your sight for the time being, and making sure your doors are properly locked before going to bed. Any questions?"

As the police inspector was bombarded with questions, an old woman who smelled of cats was hastily walking back to her home. She had stayed on Albus' request to keep an eye on Harry Potter, the twin of the Boy-Who-Lived, but after his disappearance her presence wasn't really needed anymore, and she now only stayed there in case of Harry coming back to his relatives.

_Albus needs to know about this!_

**-Break-**

It was a normal day in the Potter household, as Lily hummed while preparing the breakfast for her family. She smiled as she heard James play with Sirius Charlus, their oldest son, as Ivy, their youngest, giggled. Then she had to refrain a sad sigh, knowing that _someone_ was missing from the picture of perfection she lived in. Harry, Sirius' twin, had been given to her sister, after repeated reassurances from Dumbledore that he would be safe and that Petunia wouldn't harm him. Sometimes, when she missed him too much, she wondered if she had made the wrong choice.

_No, don't think like that! It was the best for him!_ she scolded herself. She knew that in the years following Voldemort's defeat, they had doted on Sirius a lot, and had Harry been living with them, he would surely have ended up bitter that his twin was showered with praise while he was not. After all it was hard for them to go out in public without being bothered by Sirius' fans, and Harry wouldn't have taken the permanent reminder of the fact that _he_ wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived well, and that he was only the Twin-Who-Watched, well.

Recently, she had been missing him even more, and had even flooed Dumbledore to ask if it was possible to visit him. Unfortunately, the man had kindly, but firmly, told her that Harry was safe and that she would see him on his eleventh birthday, and that visiting him now was a bad idea.

_Please understand, Lily. Harry is too young for the moment to understand why you gave him to your sister, and visiting him now would only make him think you abandoned him. A child's mind is frighteningly simple, after all. He would not see you coming to visit him, but the mother who gave him to the Dursleys. While I am certain he is treated well, a child knowing that their parents gave them away, even if it was for a noble cause, will only remember the part about their parents essentially abandoning them. And we wouldn't that, now would we?_

The worse was that his arguments were sound, she knew that a child was not mature enough to understand the subtleties that an adult's mind could.

"Everyone," she called, "Breakfast's ready!"

**-Break-**

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was currently facing a dilemma. He had been informed, a few weeks earlier, that Harry Potter had vanished from his relatives' home by Arabella Figg, the Squib he had planted in Surrey to make sure that Harry was treated correctly by his relatives. The fact that he had waved aside her concerns time after time hadn't yet made him realize just how bad his idea of putting Harry with the Dursleys had been.

On that night, he had concluded that Sirius Potter was the Chosen One, as he had a S-shaped scar on his cheek, and was a little more powerful than his twin, something he had assumed had to do with his destiny. Unfortunately, he had known immediately that he couldn't let Harry live with the Potters. James, despite having matured, still loved being the center of attention, and as such would certainly favor Sirius over his twin, which would lead to Harry resenting him, which was something he couldn't allow, as he needed the family of the Savior to be united. There was also the fact that Sirius would become a target, and he didn't want Harry to grow up risking his life because of his brother's fame, as people would undoubtedly target him to get to Sirius.

As such, he had hatched a plan, and had made sure that Blood Wards were erected over the Dursleys' house, with blood willingly given by Lily, to ensure her son's safety. He had also left a letter with Harry, so as to explain the circumstances and ask Petunia to grow past her dislike for her sister. He was certain the woman would jump at the chance to take care of her nephew, after all who would treat their nephew badly?

Now, Arabella had just told him that Vernon Dursley had been murdered, in his own house, during the night, and that Petunia and her son hadn't heard anything. That was worrying, as it could only have been the result of magic being used, meaning that someone, probably a Death Eater, had found where Harry lived, and was targeting his family in the hopes of getting him to manifest himself. He should have warned the Potters, but he felt there was no need to alarm them, especially considering that he had yet to inform Lily that her son had ran away from his relatives' home. While he was a powerful wizard in his own right, he had no wish to suffer the wrath of one of the most brilliant witches of all times, as she had a very nasty temper and a vindictive streak a mile wide. No, for now he would do his best to find Harry, after all, it couldn't be that hard to find one underage wizard with absolutely no training, right?

**-Break-**

Harry cackled evilly as he watched Petunia plead for her son's life, while Freddy was slowly lowering him above a flaming pit. It had taken the serial killer only a glance at Dudley's body to decide that he would be cooking some pork roast, and as such Dudley was now struggling against the chains Freddy had used to bind him, and trying to scream. Of course, seeing that his screams had irritated his tormentor, said tormentor had seen fit to remove his tongue, so his wails were mostly inarticulate. They sounded something like:

"RAAAGGHGGH! HA''YYYYY, '''EEEAAA!"

"NO! PLEASE RELEASE MY DIDDYKINS!" wailed Petunia, causing Harry to smirk evilly at the stupid nickname his aunt used for her son.

"**Nope. Freddy here specializes in killing children, and he has promised me a demonstration of his skills. Now, while the pork's being cooked, how about you and me have a little chat?"**

At that, Petunia shrieked and tried to run to help her son, only to scream when a chain suddenly wrapped itself around her waist and lifted her up.

"**Tsk, tsk. Bad Petunia. It's not very polite to interrupt a conversation like this. I have to punish you for that."**

With a smile, he floated up to her level, before swiftly cutting two of her fingers, causing the woman to howl in pain.

"**Well, Petunia, let's have this chat then, we have **_**aaalllll**_** night."** he said, while looking in her eyes with a smile that caused her to wet herself in fear, though she stayed silent.

Her silence lasted around three and a half seconds longer.

**-Break-**

The next day saw a police officer standing in front of the Dursleys' hotel room. After what had happened at their house, they had been relocated to an hotel, at least until all the physical clues had been collected, and the crime scene, cleaned. Nobody sane wanted to sleep in a room with bloody messages on the walls, after all.

"Mrs. Dursley? Officer Ivanov, I'm here to bring you to the station."

After waiting for a few minutes, he knocked again, a bit more insistently.

"Mrs. Dursley, you have an appointment at the police station, please open this door."

Waiting a little more, and growing annoyed from the lack of response, he banged on the door.

"MRS. DURSLEY. THIS IS THE POLICE, OPEN THE DOOR."

As there was still no reaction and no noise whatsoever coming from the room, the policeman kicked the door open, his weapon at the ready, before slowly moving towards the bedroom.

"Mrs. Durs-oh shit." cursed the policeman, as he quickly fled the bedroom to vomit in the bathroom.

In the bed, one Petunia Dursley laid dead, her body opened and her internal organs thrown everywhere around the room. She was holding a piece of charred meat that seemed to come from the badly burnt body of her son, which had been put on a silver plate with an apple in his mouth, and had a kitchen knife sticking out of his behind. Both corpses were naked, and on the wall behind Petunia Dursley's corpse was another bloody message like the one found back at her home, this one reading: **Et bon appétit!**

**-Break-**

The Dursleys' death shook a lot of people in Surrey. After all, outside of the good-for-nothing nephew, who had mysteriously disappeared a few weeks earlier, they were all exemplary members of the community, and while nobody truly missed them, their death came as a shock. Petunia's fellow gossips felt strangely subdued now that she was dead, and the local gang of bullies had stopped tormenting those weaker than them for the moment, too shocked that their chief had been killed.

However, the death of the Durlseys were only the beginning. A mere week after their deaths, several children woke up screaming with slash wounds on their bodies, and refused to go back to sleep, speaking of a scary burnt man that played with them. Now, had it not been for the wounds, nobody would have believed them, and most adults would have considered their nightmare as nothing more than the result of the news of the Dursleys' death, however, several adults had a feeling that something was very wrong, as if someone was staring at them. It made a lot of people nervous, but they nonetheless went on with their lives, assuming that the Serial Killer of Surrey would be caught by the police.

Unfortunately, that was not to be.

The first to die was Piers Polkiss, who had been Dudley's second in his little gang. One morning his mother came to wake him up, only to shriek and faint as she found the corpse of her son. The hands had been removed from his arms, and had been shoved in his behind. His body was covered in cuts, yet none of them were lethal, save for the one on his throat. It had probably caused him to drown himself in his own blood and suffocate slowly. Not a pleasant death.

Of course, after his death, there were regular police patrols in Surrey, though by then people had taken to carry whatever they could find to use as a weapon in the hopes of being able to defend themselves should the killer try to attack them. Said killer was vilified on the news, for killing four innocent people, two of whom where children, who didn't deserve to die.

Unfortunately, despite the security measures, nothing seem to be able to stop the killer. Several other children turned up dead, all horribly mutilated, burnt, or in pieces. However, there were also adults that died, the first of them being Dudley Dursley's teacher, who was found by his girlfriend crucified to the wall, his genitals cut and shoved in his mouth, and his eyes pierced by rusty nails.

Soon, Privet Drive became the hot topic of the media, as nobody seemed to be able to catch the killer. However, after two months, the death of seven children and thirteen adults, the murders strangely stopped altogether. Still, it would be months before the police patrols were stopped, and even longer before the parents allowed the children to leave their sight.

**-Break-**

In the Dream World, Harry and Freddy were having a lot of fun, their victims had been quite funny to play with, especially the adults. Kids always acted like little shits, crying for their mommies and wetting themselves, but it was even funnier when grown men and women did. Harry thoroughly enjoyed playing with his victims, and loved to think up ways to torture them before their death. He and Freddy had long since agreed they didn't need to compete over who did the best kills, or who left the most lasting impression, since this time people had thought there had been only one killer. They intended to change that for their next killing spree, but for now they would stand back and observe, after all, unlike most killers, they did not have any geographical limits, so it wasn't like they lacked targets.

Freddy had also taken to "educate" Harry on what he called the "grown-up stuff", like sex, women, and booze, though Harry had found he quite disliked the booze, then again he _was_ a child. Of course, he was a virgin, and would likely be one forever, as he couldn't really get laid anywhere save in the Dream World, and it wasn't like he looked dashing anyway. That, and he was still a child, though he was maturing quickly, as time was a very relative notion in the Dream World. An instant could stretch for an eternity, and an eternity could pass in an instant. Nonetheless, he intended to wait a bit more before bedding a girl in her dreams.

Lately, Harry had taken to spy on Wizards in their sleep, as he wanted to learn more about those that had abandoned him, those that should have been there for him. To know that his parents were alive and well, apparently living in luxury if his aunt's words were to be believed, while he was treated like a slave and had to sleep in a cupboard, had made him very, _very_ angry. In fact, the Potters had earned themselves a place at the top of the "people I hate" list, right along the Dursleys. However, he didn't plan to kill them yet. He had used the Potters' dreams to read their minds, to learn more about their personalities, and what he had found had made him furious. Apparently, he had a twin brother, one who had supposedly vanquished a Dark Lord that terrorized the country, when they were still babies. Afterwards, a man called Dumbledore, who seemed to be a highly respected figure in the magical world, and looked like Merlin (if Merlin had color-blindness and awful taste in clothing), had _convinced_ his parents to put him at the Dursleys, _for his own good_. They had feared he would grow up to resent his twin, because while Sirius, his twin, was the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry was the Twin-Who-Watched.

Now, an interesting fact about becoming a Dream Demon was that Harry was now much more skilled in the Mind Arts as Wizards called magic that influenced the mind, and he had been able (after gathering information from the minds of several individuals skilled in the Mind Arts) to learn Occlumency, and as such had been able to remember that particular night. Of course, the _only_ reason he even remembered that night was because it had been traumatic to him. And it had become abundantly clear to him that it was _not_ his brother who had defeated Voldemort, but him, even if he couldn't fathom how.

He had also, after probing Dumbledore's mind, discovered that Voldemort was not actually dead, and that there was a prophecy talking about him and the Dark Lord, saying that the only one with the power to vanquish him would be born "as the seventh month dies", meaning at the end of July, the very day he was born. That made him cackle evilly, as from what he had gathered the old man expected Voldemort to somehow come back, and hoped that Sirius would be able to defeat him. Knowing that his assumptions were wrong, and that he, the only one who _could_ defeat Voldemort, was now a Dream Demon, with very little intention to actually help anyone save himself, and to a lesser extent, Freddy, made him want to be there when they realized they had already lost the future war by giving him away to the Dursleys.

He couldn't wait to make them pay.

**-Break-**

The next years saw Harry trying out his new powers, something Freddy had helped tremendously with. While the man _was_ a psychopath, he actually did like the boy, as even when alive he had wanted a son to share his experiences with. Unfortunately, he had only had a daughter, one who had tried to kill him after he became a Dream Demon, so to have a boy with the same powers as him, and who loved nothing more than to kill adults when he focused on the kids, was quite the experience for the Slasher.

Over the years, their relationship changed from acquaintances to something akin to a very twisted father/son one. After all, normal fathers didn't teach their sons about the best way to torture people, or how to inflict the most pain to someone. Nonetheless, and despite how odd and unusual their relationship was, both parties enjoyed it, as Harry had come to see Freddy as something between a father figure and a best friend. Freddy, in turn, seemed to consider Harry like his son, or at least his apprentice in killing. Odd, certainly, but it worked for both of them.

They had both taken to spy on the Wizardry world regularly, if only to keep an eye on anything that might interest them. For now, and that had amused them, Dumbledore seemed to have kept the fact that Harry had died (the fool thought he had simply disappeared, based on _one_ person's testimony) and that the Durlseys had been brutally murdered, secret, and was seemingly hoping to track him down to bring him back to the Potters. Of course, seeing that he was now dead and his soul had changed to become a Dream Demon, both Harry and Freddy wished him good luck, knowing very well that the Potters' reaction to the news would be priceless.

**-Break-**

Dumbledore sighed, looking every bit the old man he was as he waited for the Potters to arrive in his office. He had spent the last years searching everywhere for Harry, yet he had never found the boy, no matter what he tried, no matter how hard he searched, and he could no longer postpone the long overdue explanation he owed the Potters.

A flare of green light made him sigh again as James Potter walked out of the Floo, followed by Sirius, and finally Lily. Ivy had been deemed too young to be allowed in the discussion, and as such was being taken care of by Remus Lupin, a friend of the Potter family. Wordlessly motioning for the four of them to sit, he reached to pet Fawkes, the phoenix crooning softly, as if trying to tell him _You can do it_.

"Lily, James, I am unfortunately the bearer of bad news I am afraid." he started, not willing to postpone the news any longer. "Harry is missing, and the Dursleys have been killed."

The silence following the statement was deafening, as all three Potters looked at him either in shock. It was Lily Potter who recovered the first, looking very pale.

"Excuse me, Albus, I think I heard wrong. Did you say that Harry went missing? And that my sister and her husband were killed?"

"Indeed I did, Lily." answered Dumbledore, looking stricken at what he was putting the young mother through.

"HOW CAN MY SON BE MISSING WHEN YOU TOLD US HE WOULD BE FINE?! HOW CAN HE BE MISSING WHEN YOU ASSURED US THAT YOU HAVE MADE SURE HE WAS WELL-PROTECTED?!" exploded the Lady Potter.

"Lily..." started the old man, only to be interrupted.

"DON'T "LILY" ME, ALBUS! YOU TOLD US HARRY WAS SAFE, YOU TOLD US NOTHING WOULD HAPPEN TO HIM! SO, WHY IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT HARRY IS MISSING, AND THAT MY SISTER IS DEAD?!"

"From what I managed to gather from the neighbors, Harry ran away. From what they told me, Harry was considered as a delinquent and a troublemaker, and as such, nobody noticed the fact he was missing until several days later.

As for how Petunia died, I am afraid I have no clues, save for the fact that the killer also killed several other people in Privet Drive, all of them somehow tied to Harry. I was afraid that someone was trying to draw your son to show himself, but despite my best attempts at locating him, I found myself unable to do so. That, unfortunately, leaves only two possibilities: the first, and the one I dearly hope for, is that someone who is aware of our world found Harry and took him in, as well as put several powerful wards to prevent him from being found."

"And the second?" asked James, who was livid.

This time, Dumbledore stood up and walked up to a window, looking stricken.

"The second possibility," he started, his voice low and old, "is that Harry is dead."

Once again, there was a deafening silence, which lasted until Lily, who had stood up during her earlier angry rant, heavily fell down on her chair, white as a sheet and tears threatening to fall.

"Is there any way to know if Harry is still alive?" whispered James, who seemed to have aged a decade in the last few minutes.

"That is...difficult to say. You see, I have checked several records, from both the Ministry and Gringotts, yet there is a clear difference between them. The records from the Ministry, unfortunately, state Harry is deceased. However, when I asked the Goblins, they clearly told me Harry was alive, but were unwilling to say more.

The best way to know would be waiting until the first of September, if Harry is alive, he should receive his letter, and thus attend Hogwarts."

"And in case Harry isn't there on the first of September?" asked Lily, her voice scathing, as if daring Dumbledore to try and defend himself after his rather monumental mistake.

The old man had no answer.

**-Break-**

The next years were rather fun for Freddy and Harry, as they sporadically went on killing sprees all over the world, sometimes targeting "Normals" as both had taken to call people without magic, finding the term "Muggle" stupid, and sometimes targeting wizards. They always took great care in choosing their victims, as they didn't kill innocents.

Despite what most people would like to believe, man as a species is _not_ good, benevolent, or innocent. There were those that killed, raped and stole in every form, and they were not always those depicted as "sick", "psychopaths" by the media, most were actually fairly normal people that succumbed to their instincts. A lot of political figures had hidden skeletons like this, though they didn't kill people themselves, they had others do the deed for them. Even the innocent-looking neighbor could turn out to be a bully, a racist or sexist pig.

So they didn't have a shortage in victims, especially when dealing with Wizards. Ironically, despite having magic, they did not use it to better the world, choosing instead to cling to centuries-old, outdated traditions and notions. Instead of welcoming those that were the first to harness magic in their family line, they tried to keep them out of their society. Many words could be used to describe such a behavior, but Freddy had summed it up rather well in a few words: _These guys are morons. Nothing more that kids pissing themselves because they're afraid of what they don't know._

Harry agreed. He agreed wholeheartedly, especially after seeing the debacle of 1991 at Hogwarts. How someone could be stupid enough to hide a stone that could turn metals into gold and provide immortality in a school full of children, _and_ tell said children that they shouldn't try to go investigate the part of the castle where it was hidden, he had no idea. That, and keeping a three-headed dog that could eat any of the students stupid enough to try and check the "forbidden corridor", was definitively a very stupid move. At least Lord Stupid (as they had nicknamed Voldemort for the day) had provided them some entertainment by fighting against the old fool.

The next year was fun as well, as Freddy had discovered that there was a _giant fucking snake_ out to kill the students. After looking for a bit, they discovered that it was a girl possessed by a black diary who was ordering it around, and they once again had to shake their heads at how stupid some magicals could be. Seriously, nobody should be stupid enough to write things in a diary that _answered back_! But of course, Miss Idiot _had_ to be stupid enough to do so. The fact that she had apparently a crush on Harry because of _story books_ was just the icing on the cake (and it did provide material for Freddy to taunt his younger colleague), so the younger Dream Demon had gone into a few teachers' dreams and planted the idea of checking the students' belongings, since the idea of an artifact able to possess someone had seemed to be missed by everyone. Add to that the fact that Dumbledore had been present the last time the Chambers of Secrets had been opened and knew that one of Hogwarts ghosts had been a victim of the monster, but hadn't bothered to even _ask_ her if she knew anything about it had just served to convince the two Dream Demons that the old man was, despite his reputation as a genius, an actual moron with the best luck in Creation.

Third year wasn't really interesting, as after two years of watching morons running in circles instead of using their brains, both Dream Demons had agreed to go on their latest killing contest, each choosing a town and a street, before starting to murder people in their sleep. Freddy managed to get eleven people before he was dragged out of the Dream World and "killed", while Harry had managed to reach seventeen before a rumor about the "Dream Child" started to go around the neighborhood.

When they came back to Hogwarts, an overweight man seemed to be arguing with Dumbledore, so they cheered him on, happy to see that someone had actually the balls to disagree with the old coot. That lasted for around ten seconds, after which they realized that the man was simply _stupid_ enough to be convinced he was right, even with his theory about Peter Pettigrew being shaky at best. Still, they let him live, as they were actually curious how someone so stupid had been able to be elected _Minister_ _of magic_. Freddy had bet it was because there was nobody else, while Harry had been more inclined to believe the magicals were simply a bunch of morons that couldn't see the man was simply an even bigger idiot than them by running for Minister. Still, they decided it was actually funny to see how long an organism stupid enough to lack basic self-preservation skills would survive on its' own, so they agreed to leave him alone.

The next year was more interesting, as they had discovered that the Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be held at Hogwarts. After digging up some information from the minds of those in the know, they had discovered the reason why it had been stopped in the first place: the death toll had been too high. However, the new measures were supposed to make it safer, but from what they had found about the tasks, it wasn't really the case. Really, as if pitting teenagers against nesting dragon mothers was safe! Of course, the fact that both Harry and Freddy intended to interfere was bound to make things more interesting...

**-Break-**

"_Fleur? Are you ready? You are going to be late for the task!"_ called Aimee Belcourt, knocking at the door of her friend's room.

She had come to get her friend, because quite frankly she was starting to worry about her. Ever since her name had been drawn as the Beauxbaton's Champion, she had seemed to wither away and withdraw herself more and more. At first, it was barely noticeable, only a few sleeping troubles, which she had attributed to the stress of being the school's representative, telling herself that she would be here if Fleur ever needed her. However, the more the First Task grew close, the worse Fleur got. She now had dark bags under her eyes and snapped at everyone for the smallest reason, yet from what little she had been able to see, it was not because of the Task, as when Madame Maxime had asked her if she needed a break from her studies, Fleur had denied that her problems were related to the Tournament.

"_Fleur? I'm coming in."_

As she grew frustrated by her friend's lack of response, she opened the door...only to hastily backpedal until her back hit a wall, though that didn't stop her from trying to merge with it as she frantically tried to put as much distance between what she had just seen and her. Her frantic screams attracted her schoolmates, as well as Madame Maxime who came running in, her heavy frame making the ground shake each time she put a foot on the ground.

"_What is it? Ms. Belcourt, what happened?"_ she asked her student, who had her eyes wide open in fear as she shakily pointed towards the room she had just left with haste.

Turning to look at what her pupil was pointing at, the half-giantess felt her own eyes widen in shock as bile raised from her stomach and she fought the urge to vomit.

In the middle of the room was Fleur Delacour, or rather, her corpse. She was naked, and her arms were spread in a parody of a bird's wings. Her beautiful face was frozen in a silent scream that spoke of utter terror as her now hollow eyes stared right ahead. However, the worst were the several metallic poles that pierced her body in random places, one of which had her heart impaled in front of her. On the ground, written in blood, was the following message:

**Little birdie broke my heart, so I took hers. The Fourth Champion**

"_DUMBLEDORE!"_

**-Break-**

Harry snickered as he watched his twin get thoroughly interrogated by the Aurors, while Fleur's father was restrained by James Potter and Sirius Black as he tried to attack the teen, who was flinching and trying to get away from the screaming and distraught man. As the Fourth Champion was the Boy-Who-Lived, they all thought Sirius had been the one to commit the crime, as the Wizards still hadn't discovered that his twin was not the one who had vanquished Voldemort.

Targeting Fleur first, when she was the only female Champion, may have been slightly sexist, but Freddy had insisted that he needed to get laid, and he was curious about sex with a part-Veela anyway, so he had regularly visited her dreams in the period between the drawing of her name as a Champion, chasing her until she was too terrified to sleep properly. Then, the day before the First Task, when she had been forced to succumb to sleep without the help of the dreamless sleep potions she had used for a short while before that, he had stroke. He had invaded her dreams and raped her, delighting in her fear and her pitiful attempts to escape, taunting her as he used her for his own pleasure, before finally killing her, making sure to make it painful as he manipulated reality and nailed her to the ground like some kind of insect.

"Nice job, kid. Seems to me that the shit just hit the fan for those dumbasses. Ouch, that had to hurt." Freddy commented as Mr. Delacour managed to send Sirius Potter flying with a punch, the Dream Demon grinning as he watched the interrogation devolve into a fist fight.

"Thanks, Freddy. I figured that causing some chaos for those idiots would be funny, plus I still have two other champions to mess with. Still, she was a good fuck, too bad she kept calling me a monster, 'might have left her alive otherwise. With a little reminder, of course, but still."

"A good fuck? How'd you know that, she's the first one you got?" asked the older Dream Demon, causing his younger counterpart to roll his eyes.

"Please, just because she's the first to see the real me, doesn't mean I didn't get to get laid before. I mean, the castle is full of teenage girls, and a lot of them have some rather hot wet dreams. Too bad they didn't realize their "partner" was me."

Indeed, Harry being a shape-shifter, it had been disappointingly easy to take the place of the girls' dream man to have his fun, and most of them, thinking it was only a really vivid dream, had never realized that something was wrong. So Harry was hardly a virgin. Besides, it was only rape if the girl wasn't consenting, and most of them had been _very_ enthusiastic in their fucking, thinking it was only a dream. Too bad it wasn't.

"So, what's the plan now?" Freddy asked, as he created a beer and drunk it.

"Meh, going to have some fun with the teachers now, most of them are too stupid to see Dumb is using them anyway. And you, what are you planning?"

"Oh, nothing too big, just going to kill a few brats. Wanna see if we can create an international incident?" asked the older Dream Demon, earning himself a smirk from Harry.

"I like how you think. Take the kids, I take the teachers."

**-Break-**

"Albus, you have to do something!" shrieked a disheveled Minerva McGonnagal, the stern Transfiguration teacher looking exhausted. With you good reason.

It was late December, soon the date of the Yule Ball, yet nobody was thinking about the Ball. All thoughts were revolving about the identity of the mysterious murderer who had managed to kill three teachers and five students, and yet was still at large, despite all the security measures in place. A climate of fear had settled on the castle, and only the fact that Viktor Krum may lose his magic had prevented the Durmstrang delegation from leaving. The Beauxbatons delegation would have already left, if not for the fact that the killer may have been one of their own members. Until they were proven innocent, they were stuck at Hogwarts.

While the students' deaths were mourned, the death of the teachers had caused the level of fear to skyrocket amongst the students, as a student could be overpowered in the mind of the masses, but to have three teachers killed showed that the culprit was skilled enough to take down fully trained witches and wizards.

The first teacher to die had been Severus Snape, who had been found in his quarters in the dungeons, his skin removed and used to create parchment he had apparently written lines on, the words _I will not be a bitter bastard _repeated over and over. While not many students of Hogwarts missed the man, the way he had died had shocked, as violent deaths were not common in the Wizardry world, most cases of murders revolving around the use of the Killing Curse or the Cutting Curse. His death had shaken many people, as the man, while an awful living being, was no slouch when it came to holding his own in a fight, yet he had still been killed. His death caused the Headmaster to order the students to move in groups of at least ten to lower the odds of them being attacked.

The second teacher to die had been Sybill Trelawney, the Divination teacher had been found when the third years had walked in for their weekly session of trying to divine the future. The woman had had her lips sewn together with barbed wire, her eyes gauged out, and had her forehead opened, the skin pried open to allow to see the bone of her cranium. In front of her was a sheet of paper with a message written in blood: "**Sorry, didn't find any proof she had a Third Eye**." Only a few truly missed the eccentric and often drunk woman, though her death had caused Dumbledore to almost have a heart attack. After her death, the number of Aurors patrolling the grounds were doubled, and everyone agreed that by then the killer would have trouble going after his next target.

It was a mistake.

The last teacher to die had been Hagrid, much to everyone's shock, as while slightly simple-minded, the half-giant was simply too nice a person to have anyone after his blood. Furthermore, as a half-giant, he was _very_ resistant to magic, so there should have been traces of struggle, yet he was found in his bed, half-eaten and with a giant smile on his face.

Now, the Ministry was pushing for Hogwarts to be closed, as despite their best efforts, they hadn't managed to find the culprit, and the parents of most purebloods, influential people, wanted to withdraw their children as they couldn't afford to lose their Heirs and Heiresses. At least out of the students killed, only two were purebloods, and of relatively minor families.

Back to the present, Albus Dumbledore had been looking over the evidence, and he had possibly found who, or more precisely _what_, had caused the deaths. There had been rumors about strange dreams amongst the students, of a burnt man wearing a red and green striped shirt, and one of the victims had told her friends that she was always hearing a haunting melody in her dreams, with little girls singing:

_One, two, Freddy's coming for you._

_Three, four, Better lock your door_

_Five, six, grab a crucifix._

_Seven, eight, Gonna stay up late._

_Nine, ten, Never sleep again..._

While quite obscure, the meaning of the rhyme was not lost on him, and if his suspicions were correct, then a very dangerous entity was currently residing in Hogwarts' walls. It had taken him quite some time to find anything of use on Dream Demons, but after asking a few of his foreign friends he had managed to borrow a book describing a ritual that ay summon the Demon in the real world, effectively stripping it of most of its' power as well as allowing to kill it.

However, the problem came from the magic requirement. Ripping an unwilling entity from its' plane of residence required a tremendous quantity of magic, one that even all of Hogwarts' teachers together could barely gather. Unfortunately, even by doing so, they would be left powerless for quite a while, and as such at the mercy of the Demon, which would probably try to kill those that dared summon it as soon as it landed in their realm. There was a possibility to work around that, but he was reluctant to do so. However, seeing what was happening, he was left with little choice.

Looking up to his Deputy Headmistress, as well as the other teachers, he sighed, before schooling his features in a mask of determination. He could only prey that he was not making a mistake...

**-Break-**

Harry and Freddy were having the time of their life terrorizing the Wizards. Seriously, they were so convinced of their own superiority that they were literally helpless without their magic, as not a single one of them even _considered_ the idea of using physical means of defending themselves. Still, they had followed the shift in climate quite closely, and the fear that now permeated the entire school had had a side effect they had not anticipated, but had welcomed nonetheless. The ambient fear, coupled with the simply immense quantity of magic stored in the castle, had made them far stronger than ever before, allowing them feats they could only dream of before. From what they had managed to understand, the fear, as it made them stronger, had somehow mixed with the magic and had empowered them even further, making them so powerful they had been able to defeat the original Dream Demons they had made a contract with, and strip them of their powers.

Harry and Freddy were now able to influence the real world by using magic, and they had learnt how to do so easily. It worked much the same as their powers in the Dream Realm, only that they did not have an unlimited amount of magic to use and had to operate under the same physical laws than the normal wizards and witches. Still, learning about those laws had been easy, as the time in the Dream Realm was relative, one instant outside lasting an eternity in the Dream.

They had learnt what the wizards planned to do to get rid of them, but they hadn't bothered trying to stop them, as they knew they couldn't be killed, only sealed away, and even then it was only for a time. Considering their current power, any kind of seal not powered by more than the entire magic population of Great Britain wouldn't hold them for more than a month. Seeing as the old fool seemed to think that his own, personal power coupled with the one of the students would be enough to hold them until the end of time, well they were in for a very nasty surprise.

"Ready to have fun, kid?" asked Freddy, who had been very eager to be summoned in the real world, just to see how many people he would be able to kill before he was stopped.

"You bet. Gonna be fun to see those morons' faces when they realize just _who_'s been killing their teachers. And even more when they realize that their "Chosen One""-he made quoting gestures with his fingers and looked disgusted for a moment,-" doesn't give a shit about them."

"Wanna bet they'll be in denial?" grinned Harry's mentor.

"I ain't taking a sucker bet, man."

**-Break-**

The Great Hall was crowded, as the teachers and the Aurors stood around the ritual circle while Hogwarts' staff chanted, channeling the magic necessary into the circle, while the students stood fifty feet away from the circle formed by the adults. To ensure their safety, the older years were in front of the younger years, so as to allow them to protect them if anything went wrong.

As the chant neared its' completion, the magic drawn from those present coalesced and bathed the room in a silver light as the ritual circle shone brightly, then there was an explosion of light that caused the people present to shield their eyes to avoid getting blinded. Then there was a sound, like something tearing, and a feeling of _wrongness_, then everything went back to normal.

As the people present rubbed their eyes and/or blinked as they tried to regain their sight, many of them could make out to humanoid shapes in the middle of the ritual circle, and as time went by and their sight came back, the shapes grew more defined.

The biggest of the two was a horribly disfigured man, his burnt skin showing part of his muscles, and wearing black pants, a green and red striped shirt, a tattered fedora, as well as a glove with the fingers ending by blades. He was looking around with a grin showing off his sharp teeth, and nobody could mistake the sheer evil glee his face betrayed.

The second shape was slightly smaller, belonging to another male, who was as badly disfigured than the first, wearing a black tattered cloak that didn't cover his chest, showing the badly damaged skin heave with each of his breaths. Like his companion, he was wearing a glove with blades ending the fingers, though he missed a hat, his head instead sporting several strands of raven hair as he gazed at the people assembled.

As Dumbledore shakily regained his bearings, he glared at the two beings. He had been right, and as such he was now facing those who had killed some of his staff, as well as the students he was charged to protect. He had to admit that he was a bit surprised, as he had expected Dream Demons to look more, well, demon-like. Sure, these people weren't exactly the epitome of beauty, but they still looked relatively human, if badly burnt.

"Who are you?!" barked one of the Aurors, as he and his colleagues had their wands trained on the two Dream Demons.

However, the two beings merely stared at the man like he was stupid. In hindsight, that was probably the case. Antagonizing two beings you know little to nothing of, from their powers to their character, was the epitome of stupidity, but then again, Albus sometimes wondered about the average intelligence level of the Aurors nowadays.

The older-looking demon just shrugged.

"Name's Freddy Krueger."

The people present then looking expectantly at the second figure, who shrugged as well.

"Harry Potter."

And then all Hell broke loose.

**-Break-**

Harry grinned as he watched the chaos his name had caused. He disliked people on principle, especially considering his own past experience with them and what he had learnt from people's dreams. He knew there were people convinced of the inherently good nature of man, to those he would have retorted they lived in a fairy tale. Man _may_ have the potential to be good, but most _chose_ not to be, all you had to do was look at mankind's history of wars, treachery ad torture.

Stepping to the side, he avoided the spell sent his way by...oh, apparently it was the waste of flesh who happened to be his biological father? Seeing how angry he was, he supposed he did not appreciate to have a Dream Demon related to him.

"LIAR!"

"James! Calm down!" scolded the Transfiguration teacher, though as she did so she sent a disgusted glare his way, while he returned a smirk. What did he care about her opinion of him, anyway? She was a stuck-up bitch, biased towards her own House and believing it to be the best out of the others, and she was even willing to curb the rules if it meant the Gryffindors could win the House Cup or the Quidditch Cup, yet she preached about respecting the same rules she would disregard so easily. Hypocritical bitch!

"Well, don't ya have something ta ask of us? 'Cause just standing here's getting old fast." smirked Freddy.

"Indeed." came the voice of Albus Dumbledore as he strolled forwards, stopping just outside of the circle. The man's face had lost the jovial air it harbored most of the time, and he was radiating magic. Simply put, he was _pissed_. Now, that was probably enough to scare most witches and wizards shitless, but quite frankly neither Freddy nor Harry were impressed. To them who had seen the innermost sanctums of his mind, he was merely an old fool hell-bent of trying to achieve an impossible utopia, who believed that everyone would redeem themselves given the chance, when most Death Eaters and mundane criminals were irredeemable and should be killed on sight for everyone's safety. Simply put, the "great" Albus Dumbledore lived in a black and white world, where notions of "Good" and "Evil" were prevalent. The real world was far, _far_ different than that, yet the delusional old fool didn't seem to have grasped that, and the worst was that he had groomed the entire British society to believe like him.

"By the power of this ritual circle, we have summoned you, Demons. Now, I ask of you, what are your names?" asked the old man, earning himself shrugs from both Dream Demons.

"Freddy Krueger."

"Harry Potter."

Seeing James Potter try to once again curse him, Harry grinned as he looked at him.

"What is the matter, James Potter? Not happy to see me again?"

"YOU ARE NOT MY SON!" bellowed the head of the Potter family.

"Actually, biologically, you _were_ my father, not that I ever considered you as such. People like you and your stupid bitch of a wife aren't fit to be called parents anyway."

As Harry gave a dressing down to the Potters, he was happy to see that the assembled people were all listening. He knew that learning about the fact the Potters had basically abandoned him to abusive Muggles wouldn't endear them to the masses, and would probably end up with them shunned by most magicals.

"What do you mean, Harry? And where were you all this time? We've been looking for you for _ages_!" asked Lily Potter, who seemed to be torn between being horrified and wanting to hug him.

"Are you seriously asking me _where_ I was, bitch?"

"HARRY JAMES-" started the redhead, only to be cut by Harry as he glared at her.

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking whore! You're asking me _where_ I was? Well let me answer you: I was living with your fucking bitch of a sister, her whale of a husband, and the pig they call their son, where_ you _put me, remember that? It was the perfect life, really. Getting up at the crack of dawn, cooking, cleaning the house, doing the dishes, mowing the lawn, etc, etc... And for what? Vernon spent his time beating me, Petunia kept telling me that living in a cupboard under the stairs was the best a _Freak_ could hope for, and Dudley loved using me as his personal punching bag. And if I got cracked ribs, no doctor, no sir, the Freaks don't _need_ medical care, of course! Food? Bah! _Freaks_ don't need to eat!

Well, after a few years of this _lovely_ vacation, I spent as much time outside as I could, at least I was still allowed that...well so long as I did my chores anyway. But was it enough? Noo...Dudley just had to lock me up in a cabin and try to scare me by setting fire to some dry grass. Too bad he was too dumb to realize that the fire would then burn down the whole cabin, with me inside of course. Tell me, you attention-seeking waste of flesh, and you, his bitch of a wife, have you even been burnt alive? It's not a very pleasant experience.

At first, it's just the heat, but gradually, you feel your skin burning away, you feel your blood boiling in your veins, _everything_ hurts. You're in so much pain you would do anything to have it end, even kill yourself if it means ending the agony. And still, there's a small part of you that hopes people will notice, that someone will save you. I think it's rather obvious that nobody saved me, isn't it? Well, not before I died, that is.

Anyway, after cursing every last one of the assholes who were responsible for my suffering and death, I swore to myself that dead or not, I would make them pay. After that, well I made a contract, ended up with Freddy here, and learnt how to kill people. It was very therapeutic hearing them scream and beg, to see them shit and pee themselves. It never really gets old, even after the first twenty." he finished, grinning at the shock and abject horror on the people who were present's faces.

There was stunned silence as the assembled people tried to digest his words, and as Harry had expected, it was Albus Dumbledore who recovered first.

"Even if your relatives were less than cordial to you, Harry, you shouldn't kill people! There is always the possibility to make them see the Light and help them find their way without having to end their life!"

At that, both Harry and Freddy snorted, the older Dream Demon sneering at the delusional old man.

"Heeelloooo man, I don't know what kind of fantasy world ya live in, but the real world ain't like that. 'Sides, go tell to those that got precious people killed by a psycho that said psycho shouldn't be killed, when he'd probably kill them too if given half a chance. I know _I_ would murder anyone stupid enough to think I even _want_ a second chance. I'm happy killing anyone I want, thanks!"

By now many had their wands trained on Harry and his father figure, either with pure hate or terror plastered on their faces. However, the one to ask the good question was a girl wearing golden and crimson trimming on her robes.

"By how did you kill those people? You're dead!"

Harry grinned, he liked this one, at least she had some balls and some brains to complement.

"Dream Demon, girl. Freddy and I can invade your dreams whenever we want and manipulate them at will. And anything happening to your dream self will happen to your real body as well! Add to that that by some kind of weird shit I can use magic to manipulate the real world as well, and there ain't much I can't do."

"Just because you _can_ kill people doesn't mean you should!" scowled the bushy-haired girl, causing Harry to grow slightly annoyed

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Granger!" he snapped. "I've seen your dreams, you're not so a sticker to the norm in them, isn't it right, _Mistress Hermione?_" he drawled, happy to see the girl go white.

He had seen her dreams, and he had to admit that for once the stereotype of "it's always the silent ones" was true, as Hermione Granger's most recurrent wet dream involved a lot of bondage and S&M toys, as well as a black leather attire. Then again, considering she had been reading her mother's erotic novels at eight after finding them by accident, he supposed she was a bit curious about more _deviant_ forms of sex.

"We are missing the point! WHY did you kill Miss Delacour and those that followed?!" growled McGonnagal, looking quite incensed by the rather relaxed behavior of the two Dream Demons.

"Because I could and I was bored. " came the rather unexpected answer, as Harry shrugged. "What? Weren't expecting that, weren't you? Fleur, well she was a good fuck, so I'd have let her live, but she had to keep calling me a monster, I had to discipline her, the others were just bonuses."

"YOU'RE A MONSTER!" screamed someone, not that either Harry or Freddy cared.

"Meh, I may be a monster, but I am what was made of me. If Dumb hadn't been stupid enough to send me to people whom he _knew_ would abuse me, then maybe I wouldn't have turned into a sociopath. I'm sure you'll regret it, sooner or later."

"HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE ALBUS WOULD DO SUCH A THING?!" roared the cat animagus, causing Freddy to snicker.

"Look, bitch, I don't know what kind of weird fantasy you have about that guy, and I don't really care to know either, but praising his ass when he's been responsible for half the shit that happened in this hellhole and when it's being plain as day just proves you're either in love with his bony ass, or you're dumb enough to put rocks to shame."

"What do you mean?" asked a redheaded girl, one, if he remembered well, who had a rather ridiculous crush on him. She looked rather afraid, but also curious, and he realized she was the girl who used to be possessed by the diary and set the giant snake-thing loose.

"Now, now, Miss Weasley, now is not the time to be curious." gently chided Dumbledore.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, old moron." growled Harry, who willed the man to be silent. He felt great satisfaction in seeing the usually composed old man clawing at his mouth as no sound came out of it.

"Anyway, just a few examples here: 1991, how stupid is it to hide an effing priceless artifact which can grant eternal life in a school full of children, behind protections that intelligent first years can get past, and then warn everyone that the very place the thing is hidden is dangerous? It's like asking for trouble, especially when one of the teachers' ready to kill anyone between him and the artifact, and that Dumb knew it!

As for 1992, well, how hard could it be to find _what_ was attacking the students when he had fifty fucking years to look for it? Hell, he even had the ghost of one of the victims at hand, but he didn't even bother asking about _what_ the monster petrifying his students could be! If it wasn't for us, there would be someone dead by now! Who do you think planted the idea of checking the students belongings in your pathetic minds? Right, it was yours truly! If I hadn't, well I bet that the castle would be closed, and that Miss Weasley would be dead or completely possessed.

So sorry to disappoint you all, but Dumb is _really_ not perfect!"

Harry just had the time to finish before he narrowly avoided a spell sent his way by McGonnagal, who was looking livid.

"Undo what you did to the Headmaster this instant! And do not think one moment your lies will convince us, we know the truth!"

"RRrrright...So, you're just going to follow blindly a senile old moron? Meh, suit yourself. I'm sure you'll have a change of heart once Voldie's back. Anyway, I ain't undoing shit, if that dumbass is so good with magic, he can undo what I did himself."

By now the angry woman, as well as about every magic user in the room, had trained their wands on the pair of Dream Demons.

" . . . Am I clear?" she growled, the tip of her wand glowing brightly.

"Go fuck yourself, bitch." grinned Harry, before lunging at the closest person, who happened to be Lily Potter.

Now, as the ritual to summon Dream Demons _was_ made so that the summoned beings couldn't harm those that summoned them, neither Harry nor Freddy were standard Demons anymore, they were far stronger, _and_ they had been aware of the fact that someone intended to summon them. That meant that it had been ridiculously easy to subtly manipulate one of the people drawing the circle to nullify the effect that would contain them.

As such, when Harry lunged, the staff, as well as the Aurors, expected him to crash into an invisible wall, and did not react. However, upon seeing him effortlessly set foot out of the circle designed to protect them from the Dream Demon's wrath, they were stunned, and were too slow to react, as a vicious grin appeared on Harry's face, his hand making a slashing motion as his blades left deep slashes into his biological mother's flesh.

For a moment, there was stunned silence, before the Aurors finally regained their wits and began firing every single spell they could think of to the being they considered a monster, and who had harmed one of the most popular witches of her generation. Some also aimed their spells at Freddy, who had already followed Harry's example, and had begun tearing into the ranks of the Aurors viciously, trying to get to where the students stood.

It was a massacre. While Freddy was essentially a more resilient Muggle, he wasn't prepared to face the combined spells sent his way, and was quickly "killed", though by the time he drew his last breath, he had already killed or maimed almost ten Aurors and students. However, the real danger happened to be Harry. As a Dream Demon, he had the same boosted resilience than Freddy, but he also had his magic, and the experience needed to wield it like a lethal weapon.

Leaping, twirling and dodging, he used his bladed fingers to tear apart the flesh of those he managed to get close to, while using his free hand to manipulate the flow of magic, causing his foes to suffer from random damage, some merely ending up stunned, others blowing up or vomiting their intestines, covering the ground in a mixture of blood, torn flesh and gastric juices. And during the duration of the slaughter, he laughed, cackling like Voldemort, even as curse tore him apart, as his flesh burnt and his blood was boiling.

**-Break-**

In the end, that day went down into Hogwarts' history as the most brutal and bloody slaughter ever seen in the castle's history. Even the fact that the two Demons were now taken care of wasn't enough to lighten the mood, as the magical population mourned the deceased, whose number were an impossible forty-three, while the number of people having lost a limb, or ending crippled, was around forty.

The end of the year saw yet another reason to mourn, as Voldemort, whom many had believed to be dead, somehow managed to get his hands on Sirius Potter, and get a body. The Boy-Who-Lived's head was then mailed to the Ministry, causing the general population to despair, as their Savior had died, and as such could not save them again, while Dumbledore was still reeling about the death of the Chosen One. Still, he reformed the Order of the Phoenix, trying to save as many people as he could, but alas, his non-violent approach of the war had the unfortunate effect of allowing the Death Eaters, Voldemort's shock troops, to hardly lose people at all, while the members of the Order dropped like flies.

In a last bid to restore hope, Dumbledore then tried to train Neville Longbottom as the new Chosen One, yet the young man, suffering from a general lack of self-confidence, did not progress well. Eventually, he was found dead in his bed, having taken a very powerful poison, a scornful letter accusing the wizardry world to have brought his death upon themselves, and trying to shove their problems on a teenager when the people did nothing to fight the Death Eaters.

**-Break-**

**Epilogue**

"Dumb, Dumb, Dumb...I told you that you would be regretting it sooner or later, right?" grinned Harry, as he watched the old man while he pleaded and begged a clone of his sister Ariana to forgive him.

Eventually, the Arianna-lookalike vanished, walking away from the broken form of one of the greatest wizards of the century, now looking like a broken old man. As he appeared in the place the young woman had been, he grinned, noticing the look of shock on the man's face.

"Impossible...You were killed, Demon!"

"And if you had bothered to research things a bit instead of being convinced that you knew everything on the subject of Dream Demons after reading a single book, then you'd have known that we can't be killed. Destroying our physical shell simply lets us go back to the Dream Realm, where we are essentially Gods. So sorry, but there ain't any way to kill us.

But that's not why I am here today. You know, I know everything about the Prophecy about Voldemort and the Chosen One. Now, here's a little surprise for you: the one to defeat Voldemort, the only one who _could_ have killed him and destroyed his little trinklets...It wasn't Sirius, it was me, all along."

At that Dumbledore shook his head, abject horror showing on his face.

"Impossible, the Prophecy spoke of a child marked as the Dark Lord's equal...And Sirius had a scar...S for Slytherin..."

"Well, you know, I happened to have a very interesting lightening blot-shaped scar on my forehead when I was still human...Too bad that you messed up, old man..."

"No, Harry, please, you have to help us! Surely, surely you wish to help the innocent?!"

With an evil smile, Harry gave the old man the finger.

"I told you before, Dumbledore, I am what you made me...And _what_ you made me into is an unfeeling, evil bastard, who likes to see others suffer...So good luck, trying to fight Voldie...You're going to need it..."

With that, Harry started to vanish.

"_Oh, and by the way, I'll be giving that reporter woman...Skeeter, was it? A little list of your fuck-ups. I'm curious to see how you'll be able to keep your head when the people learn you are responsible for the current situation..."_

With that, Harry Potter vanished, never seen again in the dreams of a British magic user, leaving a begging Dumbledore to try and right his mistakes.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, hope you liked!<br>**


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